~ I had incredible amounts of gas in Europe, to the point where my body would wake itself up in the middle of the night purely for release. It must've been the cheese. And the part that drove me crazy was that 80% of the time that I thought I had to take a dump, it was just gas. I mean most of the time when that happens, I'm pleased, because I don't have to deal with a messy rear when I get up from the toilet. But imagine being fooled 80% of the time?! Especially when, since it happened so often, you'd think that I could start to tell the difference, but no. One time I swear I had a tiny piece of dookie just waiting to come out. It was so convincing that I was actually farting around the piece of shit. But no, when I shifted positions, suddenly a spurt of air came out and I was emptied. WTH! And what makes it so much worse is that as much as I wanted, and probably needed, to just let it rip sometimes, I never could, because I'm dating Mr. Prim and Proper when it comes to that kind of stuff. So even at 6am when he was fast asleep, I still had to stifle the vents for fear of waking him up with a roaring monster of a fart.
Setting: Switzerland, after a long, tiring road trip.
Bernard: (farts audibly) Ahem.
Me: Ugh! That's so unfair!
Me: If I did that, you'd be freaking out. And yet every once in a while, you get to slip one out!
Bernard: Well, I try my best not to! Do you know how many I've had to hold in for the past eight hours in the car?!
~ The morning we left for France, Bernard and I had really rough sex. When that happens, it's not atypical for me to be a little swollen, and even torn and sore. I'll feel it perhaps even the next day, and then I'm healed up after that. Not this time. This time, that little vaginal tear got bigger instead of diminishing. Not only that, but it burned like mad every time I peed. Not the tear, but inside my actual urinary tract. I've had plenty of UTIs before, but this felt different. Not only that, but the swelling increased, too. It went from the vaginal hole and extended over to my asshole. I shit you not. It was terrifying. I was miserable. It finally happened. My whore of a boyfriend gave me an STD. The following is a sample of the banter that continued for almost two weeks, which is how long it took for everything down there to finally get back to normal.
Setting: Switzerland, our room in the cabin.
Me: Have you cheated on me?!
Me: You liar! You dirty whore! You've infected me!
Bernard: I have no symptoms!
Me: Most men don't know they have anything until the women get something!
Bernard: Is that true? That can't be true.
Me: Did you cheat on me?! You better tell me now, 'cause if I find out later, after I've been diagnosed with herpes and hpv, I will kill you.
Bernard: No, baby. What's hpv?
Me: Genital warts. As if you didn't know, whore!
Bernard: You're the one with the disease.
Me: You're the carrier! Did you cheat on me?!
~ After I was 99% healed up (I could still feel slightly where the original tear was, although it stopped hurting), we had one small window of opportunity to get laid. Unfortunately, we fell asleep that night. The next day, I got my period. A few days after that, I went home and he went to Spain. So now it's been a little over two weeks since I've gotten laid, and I was with my boyfriend 24-7 for the past three weeks. How sad is that?!
Setting: Belgium, our room in his parents' house.
Me: I haven't gotten laid for like ten days! What kind of boyfriend are you?!
Bernard: That's because your pussy hasn't been functional that whole time!
Me: So? I was all better last night and you didn't touch me!
Bernard: How was I supposed to know it was going to start gushing blood?! I'll still go down on you though. Do you want me to go down on you? (lunges for my pants)
Me: No! Stop it!
Bernard: Well, we can always have anal.
Bernard: Baby...my love...anal?
~ His first younger brother is an active whore, and at one point last year the guy had a rotation of like eight girls whom he would call up depending on his mood. (Which, by the way, when Bernard told me, I got all sad and asked him, "Do you ever want that?" And Mr. Perfect replies, "No. I'd rather be with only you than have eight random girls around." Teehee. Then again, one could bring up the fact that Bernard has whored around enough for several lifetimes, so there you go. Still, it's scary to think that his level of whoring is almost prudish when it comes to his younger brother.) Needless to say, Gregory is pretty damn good looking, an opinion that I had refuted on my first trip because I thought he was snobby and mean in comparison to the rest of the family. Personality makes a huge impact on my assessment of attraction. But this time he was really nice, and now I have to admit that the guy is a hottie. Anyway, he had met some worker at the spa in Gstaad, and did her on our last night in Switzerland. I thought it was so unfair that he got laid and I didn't. ::pout::
Setting: Switzerland, our room in the cabin.
Me: What! For real? He's doing some chick? Is she hot?
Me: Ewwwl! Would you do her?
Bernard: Mmm...probably not. I don't know.
Me: Yeah, you would. You so would!
Bernard: No, I don't think so.
Me: Whatever! I've seen some of the ones you've fucked.
Bernard: (getting defensive) What? They're all cute!
Me: Not really! I'm so glad you don't have pictures of all of them, 'cause I think I'd be horrified at your selection!
Ok, that's all I've got. I'm still awake. I'm so screwed. Oh well. I guess I gotta get screwed one way or another.